


Home Is Where The Winchester Is

by PrincessOfErebor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 21:43:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17926889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessOfErebor/pseuds/PrincessOfErebor
Summary: Chilly weather? Check. Wind? Check. Winchesters? On the way. And the fluff ensues.





	Home Is Where The Winchester Is

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by all the windy, chilly weather here in NC.

The past two days were nothing but chilly, windy, and quite frankly you were just done with it; fed up with the weather. Just a week ago, it was a downpour nearly 24/7. But the troubles were not done yet to your disadvantage.

At about 2am, you woke up to the sound of the wind howling yet again. Pulling the covers closer around your shivering body, you opened your eyes only to see that your nightlight wasn’t working. You groaned and rolled over to try to fall asleep again, but alas your attempts at slumber were to no avail. So, you decided to get up and investigate why the nightlight wasn’t working. Your feet reached the floor and it was unusually cold. The shock of the chill went straight up your body and you jerked a blanket over your shoulders. You reached out to find the light switch and nothing happened. Great. The power in the entire house was out.

You grabbed a flashlight and made your way down the pitch black hallway. It didn’t help much that you stumped your poor toe on a box as you walked. The only sound you could hear was your footsteps squeaking against the cold wood.

Flopping on the couch under your blanket, you dialed a number. You just hoped he was still awake.

On the other end was a very sleepy, grumpy voice. “Hullo?”

“Hey Dean, uh…it’s me Y/N”, you gulped nervously. “Um…my power just went out. I think the wind shook a power pole nearby.”

Dean bolted up in bed and questioned your welfare. “Are you okay? Do you need me to come get you?”

“I was hoping you would”, you said, wondering if he heard your teeth chattering on the other end.

He slipped a flannel and jacket on as he kept you on the phone. “Alright I’ll be there soon. I’ll have Sam to make you some coffee.”

To pass the time until Deal arrived, you packed a duffel bag full of essentials. And by essentials, you meant a stuffed bear, your favorite lotion, clothes, and your phone charger. Dean was always amused by the little odds and ends you’d pack when you visited the bunker.

About fifteen minutes later, you heard the familiar groan of the 67 Chevy Impala pulling into your driveway. After locking up and securing the house, you stepped out into the frigid air and were nearly knocked over by a blast of wind. You pulled your coat around you tightly and slid in the front seat next to Dean.

“Hiya Dean. Thanks for the lift”, you breathed a sigh of relief when he turned one of the heating fans towards you.

“No problem. Sam’s got your coffee brewing and I made a stop on my way here.” He reached in the back of the car and produced a bowl of chili beans from the local diner. “Thought you might need this.”

You took it gratefully. “Dean! You didn’t have to.”

“I seem to remember _someone…_ ” He poked you in the side as he emphasized the word. “…wanted to try those chili beans. Besides, I don’t get to spoil you that often.”

You took the time to enjoy the meal on the way back to the bunker. A 2am ride in the Impala down an old country road? Yes please. Just the stillness of the landscape itself seemed to relax you. Dean looked over and took notice of the smile that graced your face as you looked out the window.

“For someone that just lost their power, you seem content”, he snorted.

“But of course I am. I have two buddies that love me when I need them”, you slid your hand over to interlace your fingers into his.

Upon arriving at the bunker, you settled into your room that they always had ready for you. You sat on the edge of the bed and looked around, taking in the atmosphere. Pictures lined the wall above your desk, memories with Sam and Dean. Other photos were there too, such as vacations with friends and nature. On your desk, you could say, were items that would reveal your passions; a laptop for writing, a planner for organization, and a miniature dragon figurine. By the desk, your guitar sat untouched for about three weeks. It was a gift from Sam so you wanted to keep it safe; what better place for it to be than the bunker? The room was all yours, they said, so you made it yours. It was home.

You panned the room one more time before spotting Sam entering with a mug. “Got your coffee. Heard it got a little windy out there.”

“Indeed it did”, you nodded. After sipping a little bit of the coffee, you sat it down on the desk and hugged Sam tenderly.

He wrapped his arms around you, his strength soothing your sore muscles.

“You’re always welcome here Y/N”, he whispered as he kissed the top of your head.

“Home is where the Winchester is”, you giggled.

That was your motto in life. You knew you could always count on them.


End file.
